


Laundry Day

by quoth_the_ravenclaw



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, College, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, Mentions of Panic Attacks, Sharing Clothes, iwaizumi calls oikawa like 8 different synonyms for idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 17:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4970362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quoth_the_ravenclaw/pseuds/quoth_the_ravenclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, “Don’t wear my shirts, you’ll stretch them out. You and your dumb giant arms.”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“All your clothing is hideous anyways, so really I’m doing you a favor.”</i></p><p> </p><p>In which Iwaizumi needs to do laundry and Oikawa likes stealing his clothes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laundry Day

Iwaizumi needs to do laundry. Iwaizumi needed to do laundry three days ago, honestly, but between increasingly demanding volleyball practices and the stress of impending finals (not to mention the fact that being roommates with Oikawa is basically a full time job unto itself), he’s frankly lucky he’s had time to feed himself this past week. Which means Iwaizumi’s wardrobe of clean clothes currently consists of two pairs of briefs, one pair of cargo shorts, a single sock, and absolutely no shirts.

 

 

He huffs a sigh as he loads up his laundry basket and debates what to do. While Oikawa may have no qualms waltzing around their apartment complex in nothing but his boxers, Iwaizumi actually has standards (and personal boundaries). He’s not about to make the trek to the laundry unit two floors down without a shirt on, but there is no way he can get away with rewearing a dirty shirt. He sniffs to double check. Nope, definitely not.

 

“Honey, I’m home~” Oikawa singsongs as he bursts through their door with his own basket of (freshly cleaned) laundry. He drops it on the couch and begins to sort it into piles that Iwaizumi knows from experience will take at least three days to make it into drawers.

 

“I’m borrowing this,” Iwaizumi says, plucking up a shirt and shrugging it on. It’s a lime green sweater with some random English printed across the front that Iwaizumi is 90% certain is profane. It will have to do.

 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines, “Don’t wear my shirts, you’ll stretch them out. You and your dumb giant arms.”

 

“All your clothing is hideous anyways, so really I’m doing you a favor.” Iwaizumi says, snagging the detergent from Oikawa’s basket as well.

 

“Rude!” Oikawa cries, whether in response to the detergent theft or the insult to his fashion sense, Iwaizumi isn’t sure.

 

It’s true, though. Oikawa’s clothes are as loud and obnoxious as he is, all bright colors and clashing patterns, gag gifts from his sister that he actually insists on wearing. (Some of them glow in the dark.) Iwaizumi is certain Oikawa’s fan club wouldn’t be nearly so enamored if they saw the monstrosities he wears outside of his uniform.

 

“You steal my clothes all the time,” Iwaizumi says. This is also true. Whenever Iwaizumi is looking for a particular shirt or pair of sweatpants, he’s just as likely to find it in Oikawa’s closet as his own.

 

“That’s different! When I wear your clothes, it’s because they-”

 

Oikawa cuts off abruptly, face turning pink.

 

 _Oh_ , Iwaizumi thinks, _this will be good._

“Because they what?” Iwaizumi presses. Oikawa is so seldom embarrassed about anything that seeing him suddenly flustered causes a sense of sadistic satisfaction to rise in Iwaizumi’s gut.

 

Oikawa just looks away and mumbles something under his breath, suddenly very focused on the pair of socks in his hands.

 

“What’s that?” Iwaizumi taunts. “You’ll have to speak up.”

 

“I said, it’s because they help me sleep!” Oikawa shouts, face red. His voice drops to a murmur again. “They smell like you... it makes me feel safe.”

 

_Oh._

 

Well _now_ Iwaizumi feels like a dick.

 

Iwaizumi knows Oikawa’s confidence and charm are a front for anxiety and self doubt, knows the worries he so skillfully avoids during the day catch up with him at night, knows if he doesn’t distract himself with strategies and playbooks he can work himself into a panic until suddenly the walls are too tight and he can’t breath. Iwaizumi knows because he’s the one who picks up Oikawa’s calls at 3 am, the one who walks him through deep breathing exercises, the one who reminds him that even though he’s an obnoxious idiot, he’s also perfect and important and so, so loved.

 

Iwaizumi had noticed the anxiety had been getting better recently, the panic attacks less frequent. He hadn’t realized it was because…

 

“Idiot,” He mutters to himself.

 

“I know it’s dumb,” Oikawa says. His tone is aiming for petulance, but there’s a very real edge of vulnerability there that makes something in Iwaizumi’s chest clench up tight.

 

“You don’t have to steal my clothes, dumbass. I - if it makes you feel better, I don’t mind sharing.”

 

Oikawa finally looks at him, eyes a little wide and jaw a little slack. There’s no calculating front or put on enthusiasm, just an open easiness Iwaizumi knows only he ever gets to see. Then, like a switch has been flipped, Oikawa is grinning. “Iwa-chan likes the way I look in his clothes,” He hums.

 

“I didn’t say that!” Iwaizumi barks, but there’s no denying Oikawa when he gets a thought in his head.

 

“Mm, maybe Iwa-chan wants me to wear one of shirts… and nothing else?” Oikawa is advancing on him now, slinking across the room with a devious smirk on his face.

 

“You’re a moron,” Iwaizumi grunts.

 

Oikawa is still smirking, crowding Iwaizumi back into the door. He runs a finger down the line of Iwaizumi’s arm to the basket in his hands. He makes a showy, ornate gesture before picking up one of Iwaizumi’s dirty button ups.

 

"Maybe this one?" He purrs, waving it in what is probably supposed to be a seductive motion. The effect is lost when he scrunches up his nose and gags. "Ew, Iwa-chan, your laundry is gross."

 

"That's why I'm trying to wash it, idiot."

 

Oikawa huffs and throws the shirt at Iwaizumi’s face.

 

"Fine, go, abandon me here," Oikawa says with a dramatic sigh.

 

"I'm doing laundry, not going off to war."

 

Oikawa throws the back of one hand over his eyes. "Don't forget me when you're gone."

 

"You're so dramatic," Iwaizumi says. He rolls his eyes, but when he shuts their apartment door behind him, he's smiling.

 

-

 

When Iwaizumi returns an hour and a half later, Oikawa is passed out on the couch, clothes in haphazard piles on the floor. When Iwaizumi walks past he stirs, reaching out a hand sleepily.

 

"Iwa-chan?" He murmurs.

 

Iwaizumi pulls a big, worn hoodie from his basket and drapes it over the other boy. "Go back to sleep, Trashykawa."

 

Oikawa burrows his face into the hoodie and breathes deeply. "Kay," he hums.

 

"Sweet dreams, Tooru."

 

Oikawa is already asleep.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> "Wow, it seems like you really like projecting your anxiety onto your favorite characters," you say.
> 
> Well, friend, that's because I do.
> 
> -
> 
> come shout with me about sports anime on my tumblr: quoth-the-ravenclaw


End file.
